


Special Delivery

by SnowLotus



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F, Lesbians, Modern AU, Pizza Delivery Sivir, Pool Party Fiora, smut in later chapters, started as PWP, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowLotus/pseuds/SnowLotus
Summary: Sivir takes matters into her own hands after being ripped off.





	1. C'est la vie

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a short project, starring our very own Fiora and Sivir. Fic was inspired by the splash art for Sivir's new skin and it's all downhill from there. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Sivir managed to blow an impressive bubble from her strawberry-flavored gum before it popped back into her mouth. The stack of pizzas strapped to the back of her motorcycle blew the stench of grease and fatty carbohydrates right upwind and straight up her nose but at this point, she was used to the smell. Delivering pizzas door-to-door was not the fanciest of jobs, but she had to pay the bills one way or another. Just another day, just another drive in the sweltering Shuriman heat where her route took her two lefts then a sharp right. She shifted in her seat as the desert backdrop zoomed behind her.

This mini patch of isolated heaven was a tourist trap and a popular vacation spot for the upper echelons of Shurima. All she knew was that land and property would leave her account well in the negatives. She knew that anyone who was anything owned a batch or two out here but Sivir didn’t see the appeal. It was all sunshine all the time, a couple of rare cacti, and fancy houses customized by some famous architect from Piltover. Then there was the sand. _Gods_ , there was so much sand.

She slowed down as she made a tight turn, driving right up to the entrance of the remote resort. Her bike chugged and spluttered to a halt. Sivir hopped off and squinted up. _Oasis_. The name of the resort was lettered in sparkling gold letters and absolutely smothered in LED lights. Grabbing the boxes, she popped another bubble and sighed. The place was built with modernity, assembled with brick and concrete but the design went in a completely opposite decision. It looked dusty and wind-swept; painted in various shades of beige and brown, it looked like it belonged in an abandoned movie set.

A blast of cold air was well received when she walked through those glass doors. It was cleaner than she expected, with gritty marble floors and - _thank god they had AC_ \- strategically placed miniature palm trees and warm lights. The waiting room was huge with their sofas and recliners. A couple of guests were scattered, some with gigantic suitcases and others milling at the bar, the name _Paradise_ in scattered neon lights all but punching her in the eyes. It all felt too rich and posh for her taste and _completely_ ironic.

Sivir made her way straight toward the reception desk. The bright-eyed yordle perked up at the sight of another potential customer, though the brunette counted off a single second before his splotchy blue ears fell flat at the sight of the pizza boxes. “Delivery?” Sivir bit back the urge to reply with _obviously_ and merely nodded. “Do you know who it is for?”

She pursed her lips. "Someone called about half an hour earlier and spoke with us, confirmed his order under, uh..." She quickly checked her docket. "...Trindameyer...?” She shrugged. “He requested that the order arrive ASAP."

The yordle glanced at her before gesturing toward a side door, clearly recognizing the name without having to double check. "Right, he told me he was expecting an order. Please remember to sign in and out before entering." With that, the receptionist returned to his duties just in time to pick up the phone.

Her gaze fell on the cursive lettering on the door. _VIP?_ She mused as she quickly scrawled her signature on the clipboard. What sort of Very Important Person would order pizza, especially for their private corner of Oasis? Surely if they were So Important, they could afford food from the resort or even have their food specially made by private caterers but no matter how important they were, everybody craved cheap, greasy pizza from time to time. Especially when there was alcohol involved.

Sivir strode toward the heavy double doors, idly wondering if she might find classy ladies in flowing summer beach wear and gorgeous men with muscles rivaling Adonis and was met with, instead, a volleyball hurtling straight toward her. As if on instinct, the brunette caught the volleyball with ease, grunting at the impact. With the pizza boxes still precariously balanced on one hand, she lobbed the ball back with considerable force toward a man with a dazzling pair of jewel-encrusted sunglasses perched on his head.

The party consisted of five or so members, which explained the extra large orders, and all of them were dressed to the nines for a poolside party. One man with a giant tattoo of an arrow on his burly arm was sprawled across one of the plush recliners by the parasols and completely out cold with more than a couple of beer cans scattered around his thick frame. Another who had shoulders just as broad glanced her way briefly, flashing her a terse smile which Sivir read as _nice catch_ before returning to their game.

She swelled a little. _Still got it_.

But there was a job to do. Sivir cleared her throat and adjusted her hat to better block out the searing sun. Beads of sweat rolled down her neck. Damn, it was _so fucking hot_. "Four extra large pizzas for delivery," she checked off the items on the receipt as loud as she dared. "Two pepperonis, one icathian supreme and one cheese with extra cheese?"

Nobody was paying attention.

The guy who had caught the ball was too busy throwing the ball around - though it looked a little less like a volley and more like he was dunking into some invisible hoop. Off to the side, two women, one with red hair and the other with white were suspiciously too close together, whispering. The redhead smirked and tapped her companion on the arm. Sivir’s eyes were drawn to their point of interest, and she was glad she did.

Slender and confident, the woman that rose from the rippling surface acted as if she owned the pool - no, the resort _itself_ . Beads of water dripped down her body lazily. There was a streak of pink in her dark hair. Bright blue eyes matched the blazing sun in its intensity. Clad in a pair of damp board shorts and a bikini top, Sivir found it hard to resist following a drop of water trickle down the woman's taut belly to disappear beneath the top of her shorts. One of the ladies threw her a thick, orange pool towel which she slung around her neck like a makeshift scarf. How the hell _anyone_ could make a _towel_ look good was anybody’s guess.

Fiora only got part-way through her conversation with the redhead before her attention was subtly directed toward the gawking brunette. She sighed in exasperation. Tryndamere, who had insisted on ordering pizza halfway across the desert, was drunk and unconscious and none of his guests had bothered to greet the delivery girl. She waded out of the pool, fully aware that her wet shorts were clinging like film to her sleek thighs and also fully unable to give a damn. People could stare if they wanted - and they usually did want to - but she was used to it. Case in point with the brunette, who was still holding up the stack of boxes with one hand in an impressive show of strength.

"How much do we owe?" She asked.

Up close, Sivir couldn't decide whether the lack of distance was a good or bad thing. She could trace every firm outline of muscle on this woman's wiry frame; they way her plush lips parted softly then came together; the slow tap of that comically large noodle sword and the remnants of pool water dripping down her tanned skin. She felt weak. It might have been the sun. It might have been the woman in front of her but whatever the reason, her face was heating up to near fatal temperatures.

Fiora frowned and reached out a hand, flicking the absent-minded brunette on the forehead lightly.

"Huh?" Sivir blinked.

"I said," the woman repeated, the thick accent noticeable now that she was paying a little more attention, "how much?"

 _French?_ Sivir thought to herself. There was no doubting the sharp roll of the r’s and the slight extension on the e’s - and speaking of... she caught a glimpse, in her attentive staring, of a silver stud glimmering on the woman's tongue. That was the last straw. She gave up on pretending to have any modicum of control over her imagination. Her mind conducted images so vivid, she felt like she was hallucinating: how that piercing would feel in her mouth, intertwined with her tongue or stroking languidly up her body all with the haughty, pompous gaze of a stranger staring up at her or between her thighs--

"You seem distracted," Fiora commented with a sly smirk though there was no denying the lilt of superiority in those simple words. There was no helping it. The brunette was definitely smitten.

A closer look afforded the thought that this delivery girl wasn't half-bad herself. Her sharp eyes were shaded a darker blue than Fiora’s own; the jaunty red cap perched on a well-angled face, framed by long light brown hair. The too-short shirt cropped at the ribs revealed a toned stomach, a jacket wrapped around wide hips and a crooked name badge caught the fencer's keen eyes in one fell swoop. Not to mention the sheen of sweat across a stark collar and dripping down too-revealing cleavage.

She smiled as she took the boxes, balancing them on one hand as easily as Sivir did; her fingers brushing over soft black gloves. "I hope this is enough." Fiora murmured softly, tucking a small bundle of notes into the brunette's front pocket, her lingering touch was nothing but subtle.

Sivir congratulated herself when she didn't buckle at the knees right there and then. Even through her gloves, she could feel the insistent pressure of the stranger's touch, the twinkle in her baby blues. She swallowed audibly and nodded without thinking. The taller woman only laughed and withdrew, much to Sivir's dismay.

Sauntering away, Sivir's eyes were glued to the woman's swaying rear, swearing thatthe extra hip movement was for her benefit. The rest of the pool's residents were standing stock-still in the water, pausing their game of volleyball to crowd around the woman’s deliverance of pizza, helping themselves to huge, greasy slices. The white-haired woman cast an odd glance in her direction as if apologizing for something. The brunette couldn’t quite believe that this was anything but a fever dream. She pulled herself out of her delusions and sighed: she was still on the clock, after all.

Plucking the bills out of her pocket, she quickly leafed through them in a quick headcount on her way out and by the time the door closed shut behind her, she was on the very verge of realizing something was wrong.

"Hey, this isn't enough--"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round two!

Sivir barely had one foot in the door before her frustrations came bubbling to the surface.

She had the entire drive back to Poro Pizza to fume about being short-changed, nearly running a stop sign or two and definitely swerving into lanes at breakneck speed. There was no catching that woman’s attention and bringing her complaints to the receptionist told her that it didn’t happen often enough for them to be worried about and to _please sign out_.

Her conclusion was that these pool party-goers simply did not care about tipping those who _couldn’t_ afford a private section. To make matters worse, that woman had gone from a solid ten to a big fat zero. She knew what she was doing, and god, if she didn’t do it well, but Sivir couldn’t stomach that grin - like a cat caught with its paw in the cream and not giving a single _damn_ about it.

Throwing her hat on the counter after storming through the entrance, one of her coworkers had the guts to ask if she was okay. She shook her head and pulled out the bundle of cash, taking a deep breath. “Hey, Galio, you made four super large pizzas, right?” He nodded as she swatted a stray piece of hair from her eyes. Her forehead was still sticky with sweat. “So how much does one usually cost?”

Galio shrugged, lifting one large shoulder a little higher than the other. “A little bit more than our standard size?”

“ _A lot_ more.” Sivir corrected. She jabbed her finger down onto the wad of bills roughly as if she were about to make some mind-blowing statement at a peace summit. “ _This_ barely covers the cost of three pizzas and they bought _four_ of those big boys _and_ ,” she inhaled deeply, the smell of grease, oil and uncooked dough permeating her senses, “I had to take the bike out on nearly an _hour’s_ drive both ways.”

Galio shrugged again, pulling a basket of crispy chicken wings out of the fryer. “Were the pizzas still hot when you got there?”

“Yes, everything stays hot all the time out in Oasis,” she said impatiently. Her mind conjured up the annoying image of that French woman and her stupid too-short boardshorts. “My _point_ is they still owe us for a pizza but you know the boss is just gonna pull what they owe out of my pay!”

“Just tell him you’ll get the customer to pay up,” he rumbled, dropping the basket back into the fryer for a second round. He was more interested in the chicken than he was of Sivir’s woes but cast a look of sympathy in her direction all the same. “Boss can be unreasonable but he’s not that bad.”

Putting her hat back on, Sivir rolled her eyes and snatched the money up. “We’ll see how _that_ goes.” She strode past Galio who was carefully dropping the fried wings into buckets. “I’m gonna cash up and clock out, it’s way past my bedtime.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Stop slaving over the fryer and get some rest when you can, buddy.”

He grunted something appropriately incoherent as a response.

“Oh, and for the record,” she smiled slightly, “they _loved_ the pizza.”

 

* * *

 

A week later, Sivir found herself driving a familiar four-item order toward a very familiar location, complete with the same dusty road for miles under a sweltering hot sun and if Shurima had any appeal to begin with, it was long lost by now, hidden under mounds and mounds of sand.

Big Boss Azir had _not_ taken to being scrimped out of money kindly and it went without saying that he would carve the rest out of her fortnightly check. As such, it also went without saying that the French babe with the wicked piercing was on her list of Very Important People to ignore if she could help it.

If the receptionist remembered her, he didn’t show it. In fact, Sivir wasn’t sure if the receptionist cared. Before he could say anything, she hurried over to sign her name. “Another pizza order,” she said, laughing awkwardly. Not once did she break eye contact with the yordle who stared at her as she shimmied her way toward the VIP section, pushing the door open with her shoulder and a quick wave.

The pool was very much the same, which wasn’t surprising. The only difference was that it was empty. _Mostly_ . Her eyes were quickly drawn to the woman lounging by the poolside, dressed the same as she was on _that day_. She cursed under her breath. Her presence was a lot more sinister now that they were the only two in the area. She was a couple feet away from the woman who cracked one eye open, accompanied only by a lazy smile. The brunette was just glad there was no water dripping into distracting areas this time.

“Am I in the right place?” Sivir glanced at the docket. “Four pizzas for one… Flora?”

The woman’s brow creased, tutting lightly.. “It’s _Fiora_ and yes, you are correct.” Her frown turned into a smile, beckoning the brunette toward her with a simple wave of her hand. Sivir had two very clear choices here: drop the boxes on a nearby table, forgo the payment and make a run for it _or_ take the woman up on her challenge and some part of her _relished_ the thought of one. Plus, Fiora still owed her $20 and a tip.

“-ning out again?”

“What?” Sivir pursed her lips when Fiora laughed.

“I said just set them down here.”

Sivir shrugged, making a big show of walking toward the table with great uncertainty. “You must be really hungry.” She joked, trying to lighten the mood but the way Fiora’s eyes followed every step made her feel a lot like a snack. For some reason, her brain decided _now_ was the time to see how far she could push. “You’re wearing the same outfit as last time,” her remark only brought a low chuckle from Fiora. “Do you live here?” Her heart thudded loudly, loud enough that she was afraid the ravenette could hear it but it was ride or die. “Speaking of last time…”

Fiora quirked a single, slender eyebrow. “Yes?”

It took her knee hitting the edge of the table for her to realize that she was within arm’s reach of the woman. Sivir set the boxes down on the table and folded her arms. _Be professional_ , she reminded herself. “So that’ll be a solid sixty _including_ what you owe from last time.” What she owed Azir was two nights of dinner, something she could _not_ afford. Literally. She stuck a gloved hand out expectantly, one arm still wrapped around her bare midriff for protection.

Fiora smirked and rose from her seat, taking Sivir’s hand like she was offered a bouquet of fancy flowers and placed a soft kiss at the very tips of her fingers. This time, Sivir _knew_ it wasn’t the heat as a hot pink flush spread up her neck all the way to her cheeks and spreading to her ears. The woman murmured, the soft tenor of her voice vibrating against her skin even through the cloth. “ _Je suis_ _désolée_ , forgive me, I’m not used to paying with these paper bills.”

“What are you implying?” Sivir said, managing a scowl despite her furnace of a face. This definitely wasn’t legal, not with Fiora’s drop dead gorgeous body and her captivating accent and how she looked genuinely apologetic made her feel guilty about the whole thing. ‘You pay with something other than paper money where you come from?”

“ _Non_ ,” Fiora laughed as she let go of Sivir’s hand which remained in the air for a second too long before it was snatched away as if she’d burned it. “I don’t pay for anything.” The way the woman said it was decidedly casual, like she was the common denominator in her fantasy city where everyone dined on foie gras and gold leaf parfait for dessert. The way she lounged back in the recliner curdled the jealousy in Sivir’s stomach like custard gone sour. She sounded so carefree and without a single thought to the fast food worker’s plight.

She tapped the boxes harshly with her fingers, the same ones Fiora had kissed not seconds earlier which brought the woman’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Well around here, you have to pay for things you buy,” Sivir said tersely. Not to mention all four boxes of pizza was going to go to waste all because of Fiora’s fanciful whims. Sivir stretched out an open palm again, determined not to let Fiora get the best of her. She was going to get her money one way or another.

“You keep doing that. Why?” There was a light lilt at the end of her sentence which turned the question hypothetical. Fiora’s blue eyes sparkled with humor and a smirk the brunette was intimately familiar with. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

Sivir was fully convinced that the flush on her face couldn’t possibly darken, but it did exactly that. She could only blurt out a loud disagreement, the sound a mutation between embarrassment, outrage and grudging acquiescence. What she blurted was entirely different, a mismatch of emotion and logic intertwined into something far too complicated for Sivir to comprehend, only follow.

“You’re _arrogant_.”

The proclamation was followed by a sharp hitch of breath, one which did not come from Fiora. Sivir was surprised at herself; not because she had failed at remaining professional -  that was obvious from the start - but because she so readily called this rich aristocrat out on her one flaw, when said aristocrat had the means to have her erased from the earth with a snap of her long fingers and a pile of gold. For some reason, that did not deter her one bit.

“You probably know you are, but I have never met someone who has never paid for themselves, much less have the _gall_ to flirt with their victim afterward!” The brunette was fuming now, not as harshly as she wanted but enough to get her point across for Fiora’s smile had all but vanished. “You see money as just another way to control someone. Well, _some_ of us need it to survive. It’s not all fun and games outside of your VIP resorts and beach houses and fancy fucking dinner parties!” Her chest was heaving at this point, her anger taken far beyond boiling point but the look on Fiora’s face was enough to shut her up in an instant.

“I see.”

The chilling reply was a mere two words long but it was enough to send a tense thrill up Sivir’s spine. The woman stood from her chair, a good few inches taller than the brunette who had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. “It’s unfortunate that you think this of me.” She pushed her bangs out of her eyes which were crystal-blue and sharp. “But you fail to recognize, we hail from different societies, you and I.” Before Sivir could come up with a retort, Fiora pressed a finger firmly against the brunette’s mouth. “As a Laurent, I am expected to uphold certain customs and ideals but more importantly, _honor_ drives me and so long as I breathe, I will not have my name besmirched.”

Sivir twisted away from Fiora’s touch. The name _Laurent_ meant little to her and Fiora’s self-proclaimed honor meant even less. She didn’t care if the woman was just making up petty excuses to act all superior. She knew the types of people who cared too much about their names and their unbridled loyalty to family. In fact, she recalled dealing with a pair of blueblood siblings fighting over a single box of Hawaiian pizza before it had even left her hands.

But as that was neither here nor there, she remained stoic in the face of an intimidating woman whom she barely knew. “That doesn’t concern me, lady.” She muttered, forgoing the name entirely in favor of a less intimate form of address. “All I want is what I’m owed.”

Fiora was silent for a moment as if pondering something of significance. Relenting, she sighed. “Of course.” She pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, I only have card on me and I take it you don’t have one of those portable machines with you?”

Sivir nearly screamed out of frustration.

It was true that in this day and age, carrying cash was rare but why, then, did Fiora say she was paying by cash!? Because of that, she had no reason to bring a mobile EFTPOS device. She didn’t even have enough change in her pouch for a twenty-dollar bill. She glared at the woman suspiciously but Fiora was the picture of innocence.

“No…” Sivir finally relented, grinding the word out between clenched teeth. Then there was silence. There was no chance she was going to foot the bill again, that would set her back well into the negatives and Sivir was more than willing to die before she let that happen. She could take the drive back to the store, grab herself a damned machine and drive back but the extra fuel cost was just as bad as the combined cheque alone.

Fiora’s solution was no better. “Why don’t you stop by my home? I have plenty of cash and cards hidden away.” She said with a perfectly inconspicuous smile. Sivir knew better than to fall for her looks but had to relent nevertheless. It wasn’t as if she had a better option and if she was abducted, she merely hoped that Galio would be intelligent enough to call for aid or come find her himself.

“How do I know this isn’t some trick of yours?” Sivir still asked.

Fiora smiled again. “If I wanted you in my bed, you would already be wound tightly in the sheets.”

Chalk it up to aristocratic confidence, Sivir shook her head, flabbergasted. “That wasn’t what I-- look, I don’t know you. I don’t know if you and your fancy friends secretly have some illegal human fighting ring. I don’t know if you’re gonna sell me for parts or send me off to some other country.”

“The house of Laurent would never--”

Sivir threw her hands up in defeat. “ _Alright_ , I get it, just stop!” The smile Fiora gave her was dazzling and dangerous. She pulled out a slip of paper and just like the first time, slipped it into Sivir’s breast pocket, leaning forward just enough to peck the brunette softly on the cheek.

“I’ll be waiting.”


	3. Order Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead, you have been warned.

Seated in a very expensive Porsche, Fiora crossed one long leg over the other, tapping her knee absentmindedly. She was a woman who rarely gave a second thought to what other people said but rarer still was that she had been scolded by a mouthy delivery girl. Even _after_ telling her that she was a Laurent. The girl, Sivir, was decidedly average all at the same time, and the Oasis was just the right amount of boring for _average_ to be _peculiar_.

Glancing out the window afforded her very little scenery. Just constant brown blurs as the car whizzed smoothly through narrow roads. She was a woman who took what she wanted, caring little for the consequences which followed. Even so, the idea that Sivir might not show up was a rather bitter pill for her to swallow and a thought that only lasted a fraction of a second before it was banished to the darker corners of her brain. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that she was a woman whose demands were rarely dismissed.

The car zoomed past the smaller homes and quick lights, and like clockwork, the buildings grew in size and splendor as they neared Fiora’s estate. It was a mansion by all definitions of the word with multiple levels and multiple bathrooms and bedrooms to match. Her chauffeur pulled into the driveway after vocal confirmation at the gates, hurrying to open the door for the woman still clad in poolside wear. She uttered a quick word of thanks, though failed to mention her expected guest. There was work to be done.

Inside there was a classic marble stairway winding upward which branched off on three different floors. The possibility that Sivir wouldn’t show up was an impossibility. The brunette, she could tell, was hungry for money as they all were and judging by her distaste for highborn, there was a distinct streak of envy. She considered a change of attire but considering the intense fascination for bared skin, she surmised that Sivir would remain appreciative of her choice. A pity, she had an impressive wardrobe to show off, few items including a pencil skirt matched with a tight button-up blouse to a flowing robe.

She decided then to make a discreet addition to her wear before fixing herself a meal. She never liked pizza much anyway.

 

* * *

 

Sivir stood at the poolside longer than she cared to admit, staring at the painfully cursive address jotted down on the slip of paper. All she knew was that she was looking at a very expensive location where literal queens owned several mansions. For some reason, it was this which hammered home the insane wealth Fiora had in her possession. Her thoughts flew back to her previous, and at the time unreasonable, statements but now she was starting to wonder _how_ the woman was able to afford a place. Old money was the most likely scenario but Fiora must have done something with it. Investment? Selling organs on the blackmarket?

Her paranoia was running unbridled and wild. She scrunched up the note in her hands. She knew she was being completely unreasonable. All she wanted was the money for four stupid boxes of pizza plus one. When did delivering fast food get so damn _complicated_ anyway? Fiora was everything Sivir hated and loved all at once - she was narcissistic but confident; she was beautiful and she knew it; she was rich and oblivious to the lower class but she showed a clear interest in the brunette who most certainly fell into the latter classification. The woman was prideful, she was too used to getting what she wanted and draped her confidence over her shoulders like a golden mantle.

It was so fucking _infuriating_ and _attractive_ all at once.

Sivir growled and lobbed the piece of paper into the pool where it drowned in a matter of milliseconds. It didn’t matter. The address was burned into the grey matter of her brain and no amount of yelling was going to change that. She could just jump ship right now, pretend as if Fiora never happened and somehow scrounge up enough cash to pay what she owed. Maybe she had a budding career in panhandling on the horizon. As overly dramatic as she was being, Sivir knew her options had been narrowed down to one.

She marched out of the room and signed out, applying enough pressure on the pen for it to break but she didn’t care. She ignored the receptionist’s squeaky voice calling her back and mounted her bike with a loud huff. How arrogant did Fiora have to be that she expected Sivir to show up at her home still dressed in her work uniform? How stupid did she have to be to do exactly as she was told, all for the promise of extra bills to pay for power and food?

The answer was _very_.

Her bike roared to life and away she went, following the familiar dusty paths, a little slower than she normally would have done. She caught sight of a group of Shuriman youths skipping on the streets as if it were nothing, reminding her of simpler times where she used to toss sticks like boomerangs.

Once she found herself in an area that smelled of freshly mowed grass and tall, artificial trees, Sivir knew where she was. There wasn’t a single child in sight and the excess sand had been raked away like snow. The colossal gates guarding every home said it all, not to mention the streets bereft of beggars and orphans.  Her motorbike with a slightly wonky Poro Pizza sticker felt incredibly out of place as she chugged forward. Sivir stopped at the address she was given, taken a second to gawk at the size and extravagance. If there was ever something she desired, this house would be it.

Fiora’s manse was decorated with obsidian bricks and a large oak door. Before she could enter, the spiked metal gates blocked her path. She reached out a finger and pressed on the buzzer. “Uh, delivering,” she said, her mind literally reverting to its most primitive form, unable to form more than a single coherent word. She half-expected the ground to part beneath her and send her falling to her doom. The silence was palpable and while it likely lasted only a second or two, Sivir felt an eternity pass before those great gates creaked open to let her in.

The sheer size of the mansion up close almost had the brunette backpedaling but she was far too invested now. She parked her run-down bike next to a couple of expensive cars before she was ushered up toward the house by a man dressed up like some fancy butler from the 50s, complete with tailcoat and all.

Once inside, she merely uttered a soft _wow_. Her feet hit solid marble and she couldn’t stop from glancing all around, her eyes darting left and right nonstop. There was a humongous crystal chandelier hanging right above them and several pieces of gold-framed art on the walls. Off to the side, she could see doors leading to unknown rooms and, more importantly, the spiraling staircase which she believed, up until now, existed only in movies.

“Madame Fiora Laurent awaits you in her chambers on the third floor.”

In her excitement, Sivir had forgotten why she was here but the woman’s name - _full_ name, she thought, rolling her eyes - brought her back to reality.

All she had to do was make sure she had the right amount of cash this time before walking out the door. That wasn’t hard. In fact, navigating this fortress was much harder as she found herself getting lost more than once or twice -- the first being in a spacious bathroom and the second in a kitchen where she was offered a peach. She declined the latter and continued her ascent upward. Sivir wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating at this point but she would be a fool to give up now.

Once her feet were hit the third floor, it was far less extravagant, with only a couple of doors lining the sides. There was a much larger door at the very end of the corridor stamped with some strange symbol. Sivir was smart enough to surmise that Fiora took up residence there, not that it took some great intelligence to figure that out. She only had to knock once before the familiar, sultry voice of the aristocrat floated out in response, muffled by the thick mahogany separating the two

Seeing as she was unable to hear what Fiora answered, she knocked again. As expected, the ravenette opened the door herself. Still dressed in the exact same outfit; that pink-and-white decorated shorts complete with a pair of striped blue and white bikini top and lips painted scarlet, Fiora didn’t have to say a single word as she retreated backward. Sivir should have left right then but she didn’t.

Was she expecting Fiora to pull something unsavory? Yes.

Was she completely against the idea? Undetermined.

She swallowed, pulled her hat off her head and tossed it to the side as she closed the door behind her. Sivir spoke first. “So… you still owe me--”

Fiora interrupted her. “I know what I owe you.”

All of a sudden, Sivir felt as if the ceiling had collapsed and she was being subjected to an intense heat wave. Fiora was looking straight at her, unable to hide her desire but doing her very best to ignore it. She picked up a fancy looking wallet and pulled out a couple wads of cash. Sivir didn’t budge. “Here, you can take it and leave if you like.” She placed the bundle on top of the desk and gestured toward it. “This is what I owe you, no?”

Sivir inched closer, only stretching her arm out went it was safe enough to grab the offered cash. She should have been out the door by now and on her way to her bike to get out of this godforsaken town but Fiora’s bright blue eyes captured her and she couldn’t break free. Her fist clenched around the bundle, the tension commingling with her reluctance to leave.

“I get it.” Sivir finally said, turning so that her back was pressed against the desk. “You called Poro Pizza and said you’d pay in cash because you _know_ that we don’t carry useless equipment with us on the road. But you’re obviously very wealthy, why would you go through so much trouble saving a couple of bucks?” Sivir drew in a deep breath, unable to stop the wave of accusations. “Do they not have pizza places back where you come from?” She never gave Fiora the chance to answer. “Did you plan all of this? Did you think you could get some innocent delivery girl out and about, inviting her to your house only to use her as you saw fit?”

Fiora remained patiently silent through it all, her arms folded beneath her ample bosom.

Sivir clenched and unclenched her fist. “Maybe you’re not used to being put under the microscope, and maybe I shouldn’t have called you arrogant but--”

“It’s the truth, yes?” Fiora interrupted. “I am not as naive as you might believe. Arrogance is a technique we must learn to survive.” She half expected Sivir to disagree vehemently but the brunette merely waited. “I will spare you the details of my life but in _my_ world, one must bend without breaking. It has taken me years to dig my family’s name out of the mud.” Fiora smiled and quirked her lips upward. “There are ravenous dogs around every corner ready to tear you apart. So you see, I must be arrogant. It is a potent perfume which keeps them at bay.”

The more Fiora spoke, the more Sivir felt like she wanted to stay. She sounded so honest and earnest, more than just a face and a name. Even revealing parts of her history Sivir never asked for, Fiora’s gaze was unwavering. She had a strange sort of aura that made Sivir feel safe, even when the greatest danger was Fiora herself. She could have left a long time ago but curiosity killed the cat and Sivir could not physically force herself to remove herself from the premise and so she merely stepped forward, the money forgotten on the table.

Sivir knew Fiora could be lying to her just for a bit of sympathy. She also knew that if Fiora wanted to seduce her, there were far easier methods than a sob story. In conclusion, there was nothing complicated to conclude.

“What is it you want? **”**

She was much too close, too close for comfort. Fiora was hungry and Sivir knew it.

“I want _you_.”

Fiora’s lips met Sivir’s midway in a kiss soft enough for the brunette to break away if she so wished but Sivir couldn’t remember the last time she wanted anything less. She sank into Fiora’s touch greedily, her hands roaming over the ravenette’s toned stomach and relishing the feel of soft skin over a firm expanse of muscle. Daring to explore further, the tips of her fingers trimmed the waistline of Fiora’s shorts before her wrist was quickly caught in a deadlock by the other woman’s surprisingly strong grip.

“Patience, _chéri_.” Fiora purred, pulling the blushing brunette closer by the hand, close enough to steal away another kiss which lingered in a way that implied Sivir still had all the power here. Sivir didn’t give it a second thought and was more than eager to press their lips together into another messy liplock. The tongue piercing was strangely warm in her mouth but it added another layer of texture; another thought to preoccupy herself with as the brunette found herself losing the battle when the ravenette pressed forward, nipping Sivir’s lower lip softly.

Not one to give up an opportunity, Fiora sneaked her hand around Sivir’s neck, her palm applying the lightest amount of pressure against her soft nape, drawing the standing woman closer. The brunette simply mewled in approval at Fiora’s firm touch, pressing a knee onto the soft recliner and in between Fiora’s knees. Unknowingly, she nudged against Fiora’s thighs, a request which Sivir hadn’t even given a single thought to before Fiora broke away from their messy kiss, leaving the brunette gasping and faced with a light, disapproving glare.

“I said, _patience_ ,” the ravenette scolded, ignoring the regret of having ever parted with Sivir’s skillful tongue. Sivir was clearly no stranger to this which suited the Demacian all too well. She didn’t want to waste her time teaching when it could be put to _much_ better use. Using both hands, she pushed the brunette away with firm fingers grasping both shoulders. “I want to _savor_ this. You. Us.” Their locked gaze mirrored in color, the only difference was that Sivir’s eyes were bright, foggy and dilated whilst Fiora maintained her air of cautiousness combined with a healthy dose of lust as she studied the younger girl.

She wanted the delivery girl, regardless of her low station and crude tongue. Sivir was sharp and unafraid and boisterous. The jut at her hips was easy to grasp and the ever-bared torso was a point of interest Fiora would be a fool to ignore. The duelist looked up with half-hooded eyes, noting that Sivir had not moved a single inch under her command. “Good.” Fiora finally praised, dragging Sivir down as she rose up to press a kiss against the curve of Sivir’s jaw, working her way down trembling limbs down the slender column of Sivir’s neck. Fiora exhaled, her breath hot against Sivir’s sensitive skin.

To the brunette, the feeling was both indescribable and infuriating. She knew that if she wanted Fiora to stop, the ravenette would do so in an instant. But Sivir _hated_ being teased. The gust of warm air, sweetened with mints, burned against her heated flesh. Her shirt felt two sizes too small and she felt like her back was sweating more than she would like. But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t _want_ to. Fiora was a woman with many questionable morals but at the same time, she was so full of conviction and strength and Sivir couldn’t help but admire that about her.

When Fiora’s skillful lips landed on a particularly sensitive spot, Sivir merely inhaled sharply and shivered, her hands landing heavily on Fiora’s shoulders for support. Fiora allowed her that much, for she had other distractions to attend to.

Pearly whites nipped at Sivir’s skin, bruising patches slightly tanned by the Shuriman sun in some places and pale in others. She tasted of sweat and summer; of icy shampoo and desert flowers blooming. She was not the most delicious thing Fiora has had in her mouth, nor was it the most extravagant but it was certainly (nearly) as satisfying as disarming an opponent in a match. She left her mark upon the brunette’s throat, a perfect crescent bruise which overlapped Sivir’s sternum.

It was to Fiora’s immense surprise when Sivir managed to choke out words. Not the begging kind, but the kind that had the Demacian stop dead in her tracks. A simple proclamation of “ _Is that it_ ?” which stoked the fires lust deep in her belly, along with the addition of provocative excitement. So the little delivery girl wanted to play? Fiora could manage _that_. “We’re just getting started,” she murmured softly against a fresh love bite, unable to hide a smug grin when Sivir’s body reacted, shivering in delight at the hot breath gusting against sensitive skin.

Her senses were under duress, every part of her tingling, nothing new but certainly different. Her nose was assaulted by Fiora’s perfume; rose, sandalwood and vanilla mixing in perfect harmony along with a sharper note of salt and expensive hair dye. More concerning was the skill in which Fiora’s lips roamed over the vulnerable expanse of her neck, leaving territorial bites here and there that had Sivir keening. Though nothing compared to the feeling of those sensual lips pressing against her collarbone, creating a necklace of kisses to wear for days to come.

Sivir groaned, digging her blunt nails into Fiora’s shoulders, raking them down her back. Her fingers caught on the woman’s bikini strap and she froze, waiting for some rebuke but either Fiora was far too preoccupied with her neck or she simply didn’t care. She gave an experimental tug, emboldened by the onslaught of sensations and conveniently forgetting that she was under direct orders. Her act of defiance was poorly received as Fiora pulled herself away, the same gleam of disappointment reappearing in those steely crystal blues.

“It appears you are as bad at following decisions as you are at being honest.” She rebuked. She reached out and traced the soft contour of Sivir’s cheek, her nails dragging lightly over the sharp curve of her jaw. Fiora twisted a stray strand of hair around her index finger before letting her touch drop to Sivir’s neck and the slender slope of her shoulders all the way down to the swell of her breasts. The white-and-red uniform top prevented her from continuing further but Fiora had no intention of letting Sivir off the hook so easily.

The brunette was distracted enough that she didn’t notice Fiora had gotten rid of her shorts, the item pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of them and tilted Sivir’s chin upward and ensnared her lips in another kiss.

“Now how about we put your cheeky tongue to better use.”

Fiora let Sivir go and reclined on the plush bed, her thighs parted ever so slightly. The brunette was an absolute mess; her lips were kissed red and raw; cheeks blushing pink; disheveled chocolate brown hair and unadulterated desire in the way her jawline tensed. Sivir’s eyes dropped down, drinking in the sight Fiora offered and _lord have mercy_ , even with a simple pair of lacy lingerie that probably cost more than Sivir’s entire bank balance, she still managed to look unashamed and completely in control.

Sivir swallowed, suddenly very aware of the sweat trickling down her back. The task before her had the butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly, and it was a good thing she didn’t believe in leagues because Fiora would definitely be out of hers.

Dropping to her knees slowly, she shucked off her gloves and let her bared fingertips ghost over the smooth expanse of the woman’s bare legs. The only reaction she got was the slightest of quivers, Fiora’s eyes boring into her with a raised eyebrow as if to ask _what are you waiting for?_

Sivir wasted no time. She reached out tentatively, pressing a single digit against Fiora’s underwear, her heart thudding quickly at the feeling of moisture beading through the lace. This time Fiora allowed a small sound escape her as Sivir stroked up and down, slow and teasing, all the while peppering kisses on one thigh, then the other. Sivir’s breath was hot against her sensitive folds, the feeling raising goosebumps in excitement. “Such a _good_ girl…” Fiora reached down and entangled her hands in Sivir’s hair, working it free from its ponytail.

Her heart fluttered in her throat when Sivir traced her over her panties, the sheer lace almost intensifying the sensation two-fold. She knew she was wet, knew she was wanting and willing. Fiora swore she caught a glimpse of a smirk on the brunette’s face. That was before Sivir placed one final kiss _searingly_ close before one long, languid stroke of her tongue against the damp lace had Fiora’s eyes settling shut, her head tilted back in a soft sigh. The second time around, Sivir applied more pressure, this time dragging her tongue roughly over her entrance and through her folds. Fiora moaned, her grip tightening on Sivir’s hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

Fiora’s panties were tugged to the side, revealing her glistening pink folds. Sivir teased the very tip of her tongue against her slit, rewarded with a louder moan for her efforts. She set an agonizingly slow pace while Fiora rocked her hips against that wicked mouth, her thighs closing around the brunette. Sivir had her eyes closed, lost in the wetness and silky warmth, delighting in the salty-sweet tang. Spurred on by the climbing gasps of the woman above, her pace quickened, the tip of her tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves just above, alternating between long strokes and plunging the tip of her tongue into that molten warmth.

The ravenette gasped, bucking against her lover’s face, urging her in scattered, broken French as Sivir brought her to her peak with one final sweep over her clit. There were bright spots in her eyes and she bit her lower lip so hard she thought she tasted blood, near doubling over as she came, shuddering as her thighs clenched around Sivir’s head whose tongue never stopped even as a string of curses flew from her lips.

Ceasing only when Fiora’s grip on her hair loosened, Sivir finally rose from between her legs, her chin and lips slick. Where Fiora expected her to be smug, all she saw was burning lust in those sharp eyes. The fire in her belly roared to life once again.

“Come here,” Fiora urged, breathless and _wanting_. “Take everything off.” Hurriedly, Sivir stood and stripped down, tossing everything on the floor behind her. Naked, she didn’t have time to be embarrassed as Fiora’s hands closed gently around her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed. Sivir, with her back flat against the mattress now, took a second to orient herself but Fiora quickly captured her in another messy kiss, savoring the the taste of herself on Sivir’s lips.

Releasing her grip, her hand paints an invisible trail up Sivir’s arm and over her bare shoulder all the way across her collar and down toward her breasts. Her thumb brushed over a stiff nipple, massaging into the pliant flesh in between gentle flicks and tugs. Just enough to have the brunette groaning softly against her mouth.

Fiora smiled as her kisses roamed down, lips and teeth nuzzling the soft underside of Sivir’s jaw, sucking at a wild pulse point, adding to the patches of red and pink. Fiora’s fingers trickled down from her breasts to her belly, coursing over Sivir’s waistline, then over the sharp jut of her hips, following the shapely curve of her waist. She repeated this motion once more as if tracing a work of art. “Beautiful,” she breathed against Sivir’s neck, unable to resist the softness of the brunette’s skin.

“Fiora,” Sivir breathed but whatever she had to say was quickly swallowed by a soft moan as Fiora’s fingers brushed over her moist slit. It was the first time Sivir has said her name, the sound of it had her crooning in delight. Fiora brushed a finger over her clit and Sivir’s back arched slightly off the bed, grasping at the bedsheets as pure pleasure washed over her. There was no point in trying to be quiet as Fiora’s lips attach themselves against her throat again.

“Fiora,” she tried again, the name spilling from her like fine wine and Fiora responded by rubbing her clit again.

“ _Patience_.” Fiora murmured against heated flesh.

“Fiora, _please_ …”

Her words trail off into a low whine then a sharp gasp as Fiora sank two fingers into her. She drew all manner of noise out of the brunette, her skilled digits pumping in and out rhythmically, curled at the tips and Sivir swore she felt lightning shoot up her spine whenever Fiora grazed the spot that made her toes curl. The pleasure was building quickly, the tense coil in her belly so tight she could only moan and rock her hips desperately against Fiora’s touch.

The pressure was building up to a single thought. “ _Faster_ …”

Who was she to deny such a request?

She picked up the pace, plunging the two fingers all the way to the knuckles, the pads of her fingers pressing _just so_ that had Sivir groaning, and near begging for release as her arms wrap around Fiora’s shoulders and draws her closer. Fiora’s lips find Sivir’s in a kiss, swallowing her moans with soft purrs of encouragement until Sivir found her climax at the end of one rough thrust, Fiora’s thumb pressed firmly against her clit and Sivir’s mind shatters as comes, clenching around her lover’s fingers, her back lifting off the bed sharply.

She knows she’s loud but she can’t help it when she cries out Fiora’s name, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The seconds drag on as her body spasms until finally, she falls back onto the bed. Fiora works with her through the aftershocks, pulling her fingers out slowly, the sensation making her shiver as Sivir swallowed gulps of air in between. She was aware of just how sticky and sweaty they both were. Her muscles felt deliciously sore and her body was tingling all over.

She relaxed as Fiora brushed matted strands of chocolate hair from her forehead. “You’ve done this before, I take it?” Sivir teased, her voice still hoarse.

Fiora smiled. “What gave me away?”

“Just a little hunch of mine.”

Sivir wanted to say something else, something heartwarming in the afterglow. A _thank you_ might have sufficed or a _wow, that was great, we should do that again sometime_. But Fiora didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would spring for that. That didn’t bother her, she was simply content with what she was feeling now - safety, comfort and Fiora’s arms wrapped around her.

A near perfect recipe for a brief shut-eye and eventually, Sivir found herself drifting off.

 

* * *

 

She woke up a several hours later, noticing that her clothes had been washed, dried and folded neatly on the end of the bed. Sivir quickly donned her uniform, very aware that she had just fallen asleep on the clock -- and even worse, they had _fucked_ while she was on the clock. They would most definitely be suspicious, she wondered if she was going to get fired. Maybe she should go back ASAP and explain the situation… maybe make something reasonable and completely convincing up?

“What’s wrong?” Fiora’s sudden entrance startled her out of her laser-focused imagination of varying solutions. The French duelist set down the tray she was carrying, breakfast consisted of buttered croissant and a glass of orange juice. “You don’t like orange juice?”

“No! No, that’s not… I mean, I’m… late for work.” Sivir stammered, “I was still clocked in and working when... “ Here, Sivir blushed and looked away, unable to look at Fiora directly. “Well, lets just say there is a chance I’ll get fired.” She laughed. There was nothing remotely funny about her situation. “So yeah, maybe if I go back and explain what happened, they--”

“Sivir.” The way Fiora said her name froze the brunette completely. “I spoke to your boss.”

“W-what? When? What did you say!?” Sivir was panicking even more now. Jobs were hard to get!

“He said that you had nothing to worry about, that he’ll have things all under control by the time you returned.”

It took Sivir a split second to realize. _Galio_. She definitely owed him a gift of sorts. Chocolate, maybe.

“So you see, there is no need to fret over it.” Fiora said. “Help yourself to the food. I have requested the gates open at your request so you may leave at any moment.” She smiled as Sivir graciously took the hot bread and washed it down with the juice. In less than five minutes, she and Fiora were silent but when it was time to go, she hesitated at the door, awkwardly placing her hand on the doorframe then tucking it in her jacket pocket and shifted from foot to foot.

Fiora almost laughed but held it back, instead leaning forward to kiss Sivir on the lips, tracing a tongue over her lower lip as if it might assuage her unspoken fears.

“Come to the pool tomorrow,” Fiora said when they parted, “I would like to show you something.”

Sivir tilted her head. “Can I ask what it is?”

“A secret,” Fiora winked, tapping the brunette’s lips with a finger, the twinkle in her eye assuring it was more than just a secret.

“Fine. Just… don’t order any more pizza.” Sivir said with a small grin.

This time, Fiora laughed. “I promise.”

 


End file.
